LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap. Copyright No. 

Shelf.:^_.g37//? 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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Y. 



J 



MARGINS 



COLLECTED POEMS 



FRANCIS BROOKS 



CHICAGO : 
Seari^e & Gorton 



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COPYRIGHT, 1896 
BY THE AUTHOR 



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TO HIM 

Whose plenteous hand and fertile brain 
Bid flowers that fade to bloom again, 
Whose eyes are sanctity, whose brow 
Doth wear the aureole e^en now. 
These tattered lines I dedicate — 
These beggars at a Prince's gate. 
An'' he give alms, not once may fall 
Their shadows on the public wall. 
Not once accost the passer-by 
For suste7iance,just ere they die: 
The drachmas of his praise shall last 
Tho'' all the niggard world speed past. 



TITULAR 

Margins of the mere and moor, 
Margins of the sea by shell 
Convoluted, many-hued. 
Mosses manifold, defined ; 
Margins of the furrowed fields, 
Daisy-decked, and aster-starred ; 
Margins of the woods when Spring, 
Joyous from the shadowed depths. 
Smiles in every violet ; 
Margins of the day and night, 
Dimness of the dusk and dawn ; 
Margins of the sky and earth, 
Faint horizons, mystic, far ; 
Margins of the cit}^ streets. 
Endless, tense humanity ; 



MARGINS 

Margins of life, pure infancy 
And serene old age — to know 
These and dream what lies beyond, 
Children of men ! un traveled worlds. 
So, mayhap, just on the marge 
Of superior and truer. 
Lovelier things, these verses cling — 
Like the curling tender vine, 
Creeping 'long the vast cliff's brow. 
Void below, a world above : 
Even on the verge of beauty. 
Hemming wisdom's sable robe, 
Bordering inspiration, yes. 
Tangent to the sphere of love. 
Surely never pivotal. 



I 

I LOVE THEE 

I love thee, and my love is one, 

An undivided unity. 

It is distinct and separate. 

It dwells apart from other loves, 

Particular, and freely strange. 

Its excellence doth grow from thine, 

And thy rich nature is its soil ; 

It can exist alone by thee, 

Thou art its only atmosphere ; 

And thou shalt never know its like — 

For the conjunction of our souls 

Is singular and unrepeated. 

I love thee, and my love is sane, 

It is methinks a holiness. 



MARGINS 

And thus alone is beautiful. 

I love thee, flesh and soul I love, 

Which are but one indeed though two, 

And each is both, and each is all. 

Thou art to me the universe, 

For woman is the t5'-pe and sign 

Of all that is, and even God 

It may be hath a woman's soul. 

I love thy ever}' attitude 

Of mind and body, and I come 

To thy embrace as to a shrine. 

Wherein I'm purified and shrived 

Of every weakness and defilement. 

I love the fragrance of thy hair, 

And thy soft skin, thy everj- line 

And contour, as the chastity 

And the perfection of thy soul. 

I love thee, but with human art 

Can not express my feeblest love. 



I LOVE THEE 

The wonders of thy will I love, 

The vibrance of thy voice doth stir 

A god within me, and I fall 

To rhapsodies of sapiency, 

To trances of a fuller life, 

To divinations and delights. 

And though as yet I have but known 

Thee in the dreams of fairy hope, 

My love is e'en an archimage 

And will create what it desires. 



II 

DEAR MOTHER 

How in these days of early bud and leaf, 
My heart, long locked in cold, relentless grief. 
Comes forth to thy embrace, 
As of thine own, thy lineal race, 
O Mother, Mother Nature. 

What other love have I, what smile but thine 
Can woo away the melancholy line, 
And like a sun unbind 
The frozen currents of the mind, 
Dear Mother, Mother Nature. 

Yea, when these airs, these fragrances, these tints 
Of grass and sky, green presages and hints 
Of what thy triumphs be, 



DEAR MOTHER i 

Surround me thus, I love but thee, 
But thee, O Mother Nature. 

Begone, ye lusts for all or any gain, 
This day at least, my soul, be free from stain, 
For thou shalt sacrifice 
To love whate'er thou holdst of price, 
To love for thee, my Mother. 

Thy womb once more shall shield thy child within, 
And I shall be what I before have been, 
A part of thee, by thee caressed. 
My first beloved, my last, my best, 
My Mother, Mother Nature. 



Ill 

FOR SUCH 

Who hears fond laughter on the passing breeze, 

Mingled with distant music's strain, 
Who hears slow footsteps lingering with ease 

Along the pavement, pacing twain, 
And sits with breaking heart and filling eyes alone : 

With throat constricted, brow oppressed, who hears 

And hates the sound of others' joy, 
Until the tightening anguLsh draws hot tears, 

And fiendish mania to destro5% 
Sweeps thro' the harrowed brain, that bides the throe 
alone : 

Alone, shut from the solace of sweet eyes. 
Such have they been or might they be, 



FOR SUCH 13 

Soft eyes that from remembrance fall to rise 

Again and ope more tenderl)', 
Making more desolate the bitter hours alone : 

Who looks upon the pageant of the gay, 

While etch thro' the mind the acids of regret, 

And dizzy with the poison turns away, 
Lest the glad tumult peradventure fret 

To madness one who feels the canker least alone : 

For such the consolation will remain, 

While floats fond laughter on the passing breeze, 
Mingled with distant music's strain, 

And tread slow footsteps lingering with ease 
Along the pavement, Death ivill strangle each alone. 



IV 

Nature hath not converse with her acolj^te 
Alone by day ; 

But in the night and such a night as this, 
The first that cometh balmy in the springtime. 

As I passed where loosely the vine, 
The yet leafless vine, 
Clung to the wall, 
It rustled and shook ; 
Thrilled to the soul 
Methought I heard it say, 
" I live again." 

I threw myself on the ground. 
The fragrant earth, 



I LIVE AGAIN 15 

And the tender little grass 
Touched gentlj^ my ears 
That heard it sa5^ 
" I live again." 

And the tree bough above 
Just tipped with green, 
Swayed to the impulse 
Of a warm and virile wind, 
And said with passionate voice, 
" I live again." 

The unfettered wave that broke 
Along the shore in strictest cadence, 
Ceaselessly, 
Sung but one refrain, 
" I live again." 

And the light and the fire 

Of prophesy passed thro' my heart, 



r6 MARGINS 

And almost faint with emotion, 
I whispered 
Alone to myself, 

"I, too, shall live again." 



V 
A VOICE 

From out of that I've suffered, 

Out of that I've borne, 
From out a tortured mind 

And bruised heart this strain is torn. 

'Tis not a weak lamenting, 

Nor a slavish groan. 
It is the ring that follows 

When steel on steel is thrown. 

It is a fierce rebellion 

'Gainst the partial hand, 
That spreads for some a banquet 

But for others tasteless sand. 



i8 MARGINS 

It is the spirit warring 

With the force of fate, 
What matter what we name it 

Which determines both the small and great ? 

And men where'er they hear it, 

Having felt an equal curse. 
Will tremble with the music 

Beating ever thro' the verse. 

But those whose lives are pampered, 

Lax with lust and soft content, 
Will never hear but jangling 

Of a harp whose strings are rent. 



VI 
IN ABRAHAM'S BOSOM 

Ye lyrists of love, ye prophets of hate, 

Your fondness will heighten. 
Your hatred abate. 

In Abraham's bosom. 
Ye cherished elect, ye impeachers of fate. 
Ye mourners and laughers, ye small and ye great. 

Your souls will be kindred, 
Together elate, 

In Abraham's bosom. 

O cloak from the cold, O shade from the heat, 

The good is renewed. 
The bitter made sweet, 

In Abraham's bosom. 



MARGINS 

O goal for the weary, O goal for the fleet, 
O fountain exhaustless, O valley complete 

Ye men, do ye doubt 
That with blessings ye' 11 meet. 

In Abraham's bosom ? 

All strivings ye end, all purposes gain. 

When wafted to rest 
Without fretting or pain, 

In Abraham's bosom. 
O softly they chorus, I hear them again. 
The voices that join in a mellow refrain, 

That nothing is evil 
And nothing is vain. 

In Abraham's bosom. 

Thou incense of women, religion of mine, 

I'll worship thee still 
When thy beauties recline 

In Abraham's bosom. 



IN ABRAHAM'S BOSOM 21 

tear thou not death, for its secrets are thiue, 
Are his or are hers, who doth love the divine ; 

Thou lovest thy God — 

1 thee and a line, 

In Abraham's bosom. 



VII 
SONG FROM THE FOREST 

Our light flashing waters, 
Our grasses and trees, 

Our fair graceful daughters 
Are waiting to please : 

Wamsutta, Wamsutta, 
We wait thy decrees. 

O first in the morning 
To welcome the sun, 

And first of those scorning 
When battle 's begun : 

Wamsutta, Wamsutta, 

Thy will shall be done. 



SONG FROM THE FOREST 23 

Thy princess is longing, 

The loved Wetamoo, 
Thy warriors are thronging 

Thy monarchy through : 
Wamsutta, Wamsutta, 

Thy kindred are true. 

O chieftain undaunted, 

O bender of bows. 
By friends never taunted, 

Excelling thy foes : 
Wamsutta, Wamsutta, 

Come hither repose. 



VIII 
PETER AFTER GETHSEMANE 

They led him then to Caiaphas, 

Corrupt and bold, 
They bade him in the palace pass. 

His hour was told. 

And Peter followed after them 

With sinking heart, 
His Christ had lost the diadem, 

His sword its part. 

Around the fire the menials drew, 

The night was cold, 
And Peter joined the servile crew. 

By fear controlled. 



PETER AFTER GETHSEMANE 25 

And crouching there in gloom and doubt, 

His courage gone, 
He heard within the scoff and shout, 

Before the dawn. 

He saw above the open court 

The starred wold, 
He heard within the mocking shout, 

The night was cold. 

A damsel there addressed him then, 

" And thou wast one." 
But he denied, and once again. 

The loved son. 

Himself he cursed for his low lie, 

The heavens rolled : 
Afeared to stay, afeared to fly. 

The lie was told. 



26 MARGINS 

And once again a maid accused, 
But he swore, " No ! " 

And as the dawn the east suffused. 
The cock did crow. 

Without into the morn he fled. 

The stars were old, 
And bitter, burning tears he shed, 

That morning cold. 



IX 

TWO SONGS FOR THE TIMES 

Ye sons of toil, awake ! 
Your bondage break, 

Your children free ; 
Created by j^our bands 
Your tyrant stands, 

Plutocracy ; 
God save those hands, 
God grant their just demands, 
Demands of labor. 

Unfurl the flags of toil, 
'Gainst hate and spoil 

Let her trumpets sound ; 



28 MARGINS 

And let her claim her own, 
This brick and stone, 

This fertile ground ; 
God blind her foes, 
God fill their hearts with woes, 
The woes of labor. 

To toil, honor and praise. 
Your voices raise, 

Ye men of work ; 
Why will ye bend the knee 
To wealth's decree, 

To those who shirk ; 
God end this curse, 
God give to all one purse. 
The purse of labor. 

To labor is to pray. 
There's no other way 
To God's embrace ; 



TWO SONGS FOR THE TIMES 29 

But idleness is crime, 
And out of place 

And out of time. 

God shield our land, 

God make us one true band, 

The band of labor. 



X 

THE FORGE 

On the anvil ring, 

Hammers swing — 
Strike hard, strike light, 
While the iron's bright 
And the sparks take flight, 
For we strike for the right, 
For the right. 
For the right, — 
And the hammers ring. 



Ring,— ring. 



On the anvil ring, 

Hammers swing — 
Strike short, strike long. 
With a curse and a song: 



THE FORGE 31 

Till the sparks in a throng 
Fly up for the wrong, 

For the wrong, 

For the wrong, — 
And the hammers ring, 

Ring, — ring. 

On the anvil ring, 

Hammers swing — 
Strike one, strike two, 
Till the iron's blue 
And the sparks are few, 
For we strike for the new. 

For the new, 

For the new, — 
And the hammers ring. 

Ring,— ring. 



XI 

GIVE US THE BOWI. 

Good and pleasure, 

Evil and pain 
Fill up the measure, 

Give us to drain. 

Fill it up heaping 
Never the half ; 

The twain are in keeping, 
Give us to quaff. 

This is the mingling 
Maketh life whole, 

Maketh it tingling, 
Give us the bowl. 



GIVE US THE BOWIv 33 

Down with it quickly 

Fire and ice, 
Down with it, sickly 

Whiner at vice. 

Drink it gallant. 

Cowards must drink. 
Folly and talent 

No one may shrink. 

One is the other. 

Both are the same ; 
Drink it, my brother. 

Drink it in flame. 

This is the mingling 

Maketh life whole, 
Maketh it tingling, 

Give us the bowl. 



XII 
ARION 

Clad in his robes of purple fringed with gold, 

Upon the lofty prow Arion stood 
Full in the sunlight ; then with touch both bold 

And sweet he struck his lyre o'er the flood. 
The blended beauty of the sea and sky 

At once seemed filled with spirit forms, that came 
Right gently stealing in a harmony 

From their abodes, the sailors' hearts to tame. 
Not Periander's court, nor Sicily, 

Had heard such ravishing delights till now 
Arion, with surpassing minstrelsy. 

Drew forth transfigured on the carven prow — 
But what can break the links of lucre's chain : 

The sailors scowled, the bard plunged in the main. 



XIII 
IN CHEYKNNE CANON 

She rests upon a mount, 

She looks upon a plain, 

She hears the waters count 

Man's hours of joy and pain. 

The cones are heaped high 
Upon the simple grave 

That steadfast views the sky. 
The sky, its architrave. 

In outline far below 

The silent village lies ; 

And viewless human woe 
Or frenzied human eyes. 



36 MARGINS 

The winds sleep in the firs, 
Or howl about the peaks ; 

But she, she never stirs. 

Whatever be their freaks. 

And she hath chosen well 
This lofty resting place 

So far from steeple bell, 

So near to nature's race. 



XIV 

Freckled are her cheeks, 

Her heart is pure as snow, — 
Freckled are her cheeks 

Through which the roses blow, 
Roses blow of chastest pink and white, 
Through the freckles like a blessing thro' a blight. 

Budded lips of — shall 

I publish their delight ? 
Budded lips of — well 

They softly cling and bite. 
Cling and bite in such a fervent way, 
Flavored like the fragrance of the springtime spray. 



38 MARGINS 

Glossy brown her hair, 

Her hands are tapering, 
Glossy brown her hair 

Where light is capering, 
lyight is capering and bringing out the red, 
Shading into auburn ere the light hath fled. 

Byes of fairy blue 

But traitors to themselves, 
Eyes of fairy blue 

But turning into elves, 
Turning into elves of subtle roguish gray, 
Peering in your heart and laughing at your nay. 

Guard, O guard them well. 

My brothers, heart and brain, 
Guard, O guard them well. 

Most vestal, free from stain, — 
Free from stain a nation will endure 
Potent and majestic, be its women pure. 



XV 

LIVINGSTONE 

On dusky shoulders 

Ported through hot Afric's swamps, 
Where the slaver's victim molders 

And the ugly Soko romps, 
Behold the man — 

Within his stretcher lying. 
Body torn. 
Thin and worn, 
But hopefully defying 
Death ! 

With feeble fingers 

Grasping still his honest pen, 



40 MARGINS 

With a trust that never lingers 

Writes he midst the murky fen, 
Of what he sees 

And thinks and feels there lying, 
Body torn, 
Thin and worn, 
But hopefully defying 
Death ! 

Tho' the miles before him 

Are a thousand dangerous, 
Tho' the sun, a furnace o'er him. 

Burns his flesh all feverous, 
He presses on 

Within his stretcher lying, 
Bod}^ torn, 
Thin and worn. 
But hopefully defying 
Death ! 



LIVINGSTONE 41 

No white man near him 

As he breathes his last brave word, 
No loved voice to kindly cheer him, 

By immortal courage stirred, 
Unflinchingly 

He meets his fate there lying, 
Body torn. 
Thin and worn, 
But hopefully defying 
Death ! 

The world's a debtor 

For his life of fortitude, 
For a million lives made better 

By his struggle with the brood 
Of Afric's ills. 

Within his stretcher lying, 
Body torn, 
Thin and worn. 



42 MARGINS 

But hopefully defying 
Death ! 

And in future ditties, 

When a people great as ours 
Fill that land with pleasant cities, 

Patriot bards will scatter flowers 
On Livingstone, 

Within his stretcher lying. 
Bod}' torn, 
Thin and worn. 
But hopefully defying 
Death ! 



XVI 

THE KING OF NAPLES 

Huzza ! 

Murat, intrepid, splendid Miirat ! 

Plaudits for the child of war — 

Huzza ! Huzza ! 

Brilliant Murat ! 

The cannon a moment are mute, 

And ceases a moment the bruit, 

The clamor of battle ; 

The steeds are pawing. 

The sabres are drawing, 

The breast plates rattle. 

The bugle note rings in his ear. 

It thrills to his heart, 

As fiercely, proudly they start. 



44 MARGINS 

For France, for Bonaparte ; 

Their joy bringing tears 

At the word of command, — Charge ! Cuirassiers. 

Ah, grandly they sweep on the foe, 

A torrent of death and of woe 

To the Austrians in line. 

The battle smoke shifted 

Their standards are lifted, 

The bayonets shine. 

Make way for the lion, Murat ! 

Magnificent, plumed, 

His charger caparisoned, groomed. 

He leaps with the van on the doomed. 

The enemy waver — they break, and the star 

Of Napoleon is lustred by deeds of Murat. 

Plaudits for the child of war. 

Magnificent, victorious Murat. 



XVII 
SWEETHEART 

Here's to your hands, sweetheart, 
So long and white and slender ; 

Here's to your eyes, sweetheart, 
So large and deep and tender. 

Here's to the heart, sweetheart, 

Your slender hands have thrilled with ; 
Here's to the soul, sweetheart, 

Your tender eyes have filled with. 

Here's to the love, sweetheart. 

Your heart and hands created ; 

Here's to the love, sweetheart. 
Your soul and eyes related. 



46 MARGINS 

Here's to the hour, sweetheart, 

Our souls and eyes were plighted 

Here's to the day, sweetheart, 

Our hearts and hands united. 



XVIII 

AN ASPECT OF AUTUMN 

Yellow are the alder leaves, 
Yellow are the wild clierr>^ leaves, 
Yellow are the broad-leaved ferns, 
Yellow is the lakeside sedge, 
Yellow with age, about to die. 

Yellow and red are the maple leaves. 
Scarlet and golden and red. 

But the cedars are green. 
And the hemlocks, the firs, 
The spruces are green, — 
Their trunks are green with moss. 

The berries hang red on the Madrone trees, 
And from the bows the twittering. 



48 MARGINS 

The melancholy twittering 

Of some belated bird, yet lingering, 

lyOath to leave, uncertain, ill at ease. 

The skies are the color of ashes and steel. 
But here and there tinted with coral, 
Here and there flushed with purple. 

Before me lies the long and misty lake, — 

I hear the dull throbbing of some distant steamer 

Painfully as it were my own heart. 

I peer into the hazy distance 

Out of which arise the imperturbable mountains,— 

The calm waters of the lake reflect the heavens, 

Reflect the trees and the mountains, 

Go not, go not, sweet summer days, 
Die not, O Nature, that lived so well. 
Or if ye will, let me also die. 



AN ASPECT OF AUTUMN 49 

Too intense are my emotions, 
Unto the grave I go suffering, 
Life is my punishment. 

I may not sit at the banquet of life 
With the feasters, the joyous and gay ; 
But, O Death, my lover, my king, 
Of thee they cannot deprive me. 
The day or the night will come 
When I shall hold thee in my arms, 
M}^ own, and none shall forbid me. 

Ivike a pure spring to the shipwrecked one, 

Many days, many hot and scorching days 

Without water ; 

Like the edict that calls the exile home, 

Like the triumph of liberty that strikes the fetters 

From the galled limbs of the patriot. 

Thus art thou to me, O my friend, my lord. 



50 MARGINS 

How Still is the hour, the trees, the lake. 
How still are the perennial mountains, 
How still are the dying leaves, the dying ferns, 
How still is Death, Death the unguent of lacerated 
souls. 



XIX 
IN PORT 

Snug in the harbor lying, 

Anchors cast 

And cables fast, 
Day to night a-dying ; 
All my thoughts to thee are flying, 

Marguerite, 

Maiden sweet, 

From forth the fleet 
Shoreward sighing. 

O'er the sea aligning. 

Comes the mist 

By billows kist, 
Round me twined and twining ; 



52 MARGINS 

How its lips are cold and brining, 

Marguerite, — 

Thine are sweet. 

Musk and meet 
To put me pining. 

The masthead lights are gleaming, 

And to lee 

I dimly see 
Cottage lamps a-beaming ; 
Haply thou art there a-dreaming, 

Marguerite, 

Of the fleet. 

And one discreet 
Thy love esteeming. 

Tonight my watch I'm heeding, 

But at morn 

The fleet I'll scorn. 
Swiftly landward speeding ; 



IN PORT 53 



All my soul to thee conceding, 
Marguerite — 
lyips shall meet 
And hearts shall beat 

With love proceeding. 



XX 

What to me is your name, 

Your position, your fame. 
Your honor, yo\xx pelf — 
I care for nothing but yourself. 

Come not to me in the guise 

Of office, of profitable ties ; 

You insult me as far as you can 
If you come not merely the man. 



XXI 

I lay upon my love's soft breast 

One night, one night ; 
My lips by her dear lips carest, 

Delight, delight. 

The grass lies on my love's soft breast, 

To-night, to-night ; 
By death are her dear lips carest, 

'Tis trite, 'tis trite. 

XXII 

FREEDOM 

Freedom is not circumstance 
Nor dwelleth she in chance 

Or palaces of stone ; 

Not in our own 



FREEDOM 55 

But ill the liberties of others, 

She reigneth not on the throne 
Of self but in the hearts of our brothers. 

Slavery is in the sense, 
Freedom is obedience 

To a higher law 

Than that we saw 
And worshiped days before. 

'Tis when we find the crystal's flaw 
And seek a purer 'long life's shore. 

Slavery is in the appetite. 
That shuts our eyes to the light 

Of self-control, 

But in the soul 
Of him who scorns the vassalage of the vicious. 

Freedom's drumbeats roll, 
And each pulsation is delicious. 



56 MARGINS 

Not in the State's decree 

Is found this precious liberty, 

Not in detail 

Of fortune or the frail 
Tenure of him who seeks the crowd's hosannahs. 

For all these things may fail, 
They are not truths, they are but manners. 

Would you have a people free, 
Perfect your own individualit)' ; — 

Construct the will, 

That steady, calm and still 
Presses on to your own consummation. 

So shall you draw your fellows on and fill 
With freedom to the borders of the nation. 

Would you all a land enslave, 
Send every man a coward to the grave, 
Give them a lust ; 



FREEDOM 57 

Then their chivalry shall rust 
Faster than the chains they cringing bear, 

And their minds shall crumble into dust 
Faster than they hope, in their wild despair. 



XXIII 

Trickle, trickle, little stream, 
In the sunlight flash and gleam ; 
Wear into the granite stone 
Till your might the bowlder own. 

Sparkle, sparkle, little eyes. 
To his questions flash replies ; 
Love him day and love him night. 
You shall stay his fancy's flight. 



XXIV 

They say that I love you — 
They surel}^ are wrong, 

For lust is not love, 

Nor stuttering, song. 

They say that I hate you — 
How can it be so. 

For scorn is not hate, 
As ebb is not flow. 



XXV 

EN AVANT (HUSSARS) 

Out of the shadow 

Into the liglit, 
Out of the calm 

Into the fight ; 
Give me the surge of the battle 

The sulphurous smoke, 
Give me the musketry's rattle 

The bayonet stroke. 

Forth from the forest 

Into the plain, 
Crimson with blood. 

Blood of the slain ; 



6o MARGINS 



Give me to see but the flashing 

Of cannon and shell, 
Give me to hear but the crashing, 

The battery's knell. 

Out of indifference 

Into our fate, 
Bitter is death 

Idly we wait ; 
Better to fall 'neath the waving 

Of banners advanced. 
Better to spend the heart's craving 

Where cavalry pranced. 

Out of the silence 

Into the song. 
Out of the heart 

Loving so long ; 
Burst are the fetters, 



DAYBREAK 6i 

Sweet to be free, 
Sweet even bondage 

Freedom for thee ; 
Better to dare and to perish 

Made conscious thro' pain, 
Better than callous to cherish 

Each moment in vain. 



XXVI 
DAYBREAK 

To me, not in the day. 

Nor even in the night. 

But ever, just midway 

Between the dark and light 



62 MARGINS 

Between the night and morn 
When steeples fade to gray, 

When the day comes to be born 
And mists are creeping away : 

A soft air stirs in my room 

And cools my nuded breast, 

While the day is yet in the womb. 
And my heart is still at rest, — 

lyow murmuring doth say : 
" I am an infant wind. 

And twin of the infant day 
That follows near behind. 

' ' Embassador am I 

And herald of the dawn ; 
I fill the changing sky, 

I thrill the dewy lawn : 



ARIZONA 63 

* ' And waken such as thee 

To feel my mild caress, 
To view this plain mystery, — 
A morning's holiness : 

' ' To know the miracle of time, 
The miracle of space, 
The wondrous pantomime 

When day comes on apace." 



XXVII 

ARIZONA 

Who hath trod the heated sands 
Of Arizona, 

And scorched by her sun 
Continued uncomplaining ? 



64 MARGINS 

Who hath been in the Gila valley, 

In the barren mountains, 

By the dried-up streams, 

And loved her infertility ; 

Or drunk the dry air of her wide plains 

As wine ? 

Who hath seen the fitness there 

Of all things — 

The reptile, the rock. 

The coyote and the Apache ? 

Who hath considered her resonant canons. 

Her gigantic cacti, 

And their wondrous blossoms. 

Her rubies, her gold, 

And her copper, colored like her sunshine ; 

Who hath comprehended her uniqueness. 

And felt for her a fervent passion 

Such as her burning wastes 

Are worthy of? 



ARIZONA 65 

Who hath reflected on her mysteries. 

Her buried cities, 

Her wonderful petrifactions, 

Her boiling springs. 

Her crawling creatures. 

Her flying creatures ? 

Who hath witnessed her inordinate thirst, 

Who hath seen her blossom and bear 

L,ike the tropics 

When her thirst hath been quenched ? 

Behold, she is of the South and West, 

Her aspect fierce and wild, 

Strange, uninterpreted, 

Sometimes sad,. 

Never frivolous, 

Gentle, stern and free. 



XXVIII 

MOUNT RAINIER 

Something untrodden in the routine dust 
Of unconcerned humanity, something 
Unclaimed, some spot yet sacred, undefiled. 
Above, beyond the daily round of form. 
Still native, free and pure — such seekest thou, 
O idle dreamer ? Yonder turn thy gaze 
To that intrepid peak that fills the sky ; 
To human eyes still changeful, whether in 
The hueless lights of cold and sunless dawn. 
Or in the warmer tints of brilliant sunsets ; 
Yet endlessly the same, uplifted and 
Unmoved, most strong, unmindful of the storms 
Of human destiny. 



MOUNT RAINIER 67 

Fact visible of God invisible, 

And mile-post of His ways, perpetual 

And snowy tabernacle of tlie land. 

While purples at thy base this peaceful sea, 

And thy hither slopes are bathed in evening's sunlight, 

Methinks I hear soft voices calling from 

Thy summits, calling men to prayer and love ; 

For nothing now is worshipful and reverence 

Unknown, unless idolatry is such. 

Aye, scoflEing fills the mouths of men until 

They sicken, contemptuous of their own contempt. 

But thee they may not ever mock nor scorn, 

Thou saintly eremite, white-haired and old. 

Still bondsman to a dull reality. 

Lonely as thou, perchance as desolate. 

Moving among my fellow-men unfelt 

And foreign to their customed purposes. 

Thou risest on my sight like the fulfillment 

Of a forgotten hope ; and trembling 'neath 



68 MARGINS 

The inspiration of thy loveliness, 

O'er whelmed by thy unstained sublimity, 

Mine eyes grow dim, and in an ecstacy 

Of confidence I tread my leprous path. 

For the art I serve is like to leprosy, 

Compelling me till death to walk alone. 

O, ever, while this lapsing brain shall hold 

The attribute of memory, how far 

Soever I may journey from thy summit. 

E'en in the level prairie I will raise 

Thee up, and feel thee towering there above me. 

Yea, when all else forgotten is, when life 

Just lingers ere its flight, thou shalt appear 

In wondrous glory to my mental vision, 

And vivid then a god shall tread thy dome. 



XXIX 

Love's primal moments are his best, 
While yet a new and modest guest ; 
The first fleeting touch of finger tips, 
The first soft pressure of the lips. 

Too oft, amidst his full possession, 
Begins a rapid retrogression : 
O be forever but a promised bride, 
That this sweetest rapture may abide. 



XXX 

DESOLATION 

My heart's a desert, motionless and lone, 

Save when a blast of scorching, parching wind, 
Of mercy's moisture to hot dryness thinned, 

Tears through its sandy waste with wail and moan, 

And shrieks in terror, mindful of its own 

Fierce solitude ; as one whose ears are dinned 
With silence begs by cries if he hath sinned, 

And answerless redoubles, as his fears are grown, 
His hissing shouts, lost in vacuity. — 

And on my heart's most barren stretch appears 
No quenchful spring, no easeful memory 

Of fragrant mead, but bleached bone there leers 
And burns the sight of recollection's eye. 

While drowns the fire in mocking fruitless tears. 



XXXI 

GRAY-HAIRED BEAUTY 

A mien that's moral but suifused with light 
Of tenderness, expressive of a soul 
That hath deep sweetened as folly her control 
Hath forfeited to years more free from spite 
And 3^outhful jealousies ; the starry night 

Just fading out from eyes, that men extol 
To-day beyond young Vesta's passioned roll ; 
The tinge of cheek just fluttering for its flight, 
And locks luxuriant yet, in Grecian knot 

Caught up ; erect and supple frame and round, 
Command of self and others richly gowned — 
To love these beauties were idolatry ; 
But might her love sojourn in my sad grot, 
The penalties of hell were grace to me. 



XXXII 

confre:res 

Ever by my side, 
Two confreres bide ; 
On any strand 
By any tide, 
In every land 
Or far or near — 
They are my pride, 
I hold them dear. 
In outline clear, 
One is the man 
I might have been ; 
More shadowy 
Less plainly seen, 
Tho' fair, the man 
I yet may be. 



CONFRERES 73 

I slink between 
With faltering fear — 
The world grows green, 
The world grows sere, 
Still arm in arm 
We face the days. 
I feel the charm 
Of each ablaze 
Within my veins, 
But each disdains 
My trembling voice, 
My vicious choice ; 
And tho' with scorn 
They break my sleep. 
And chide me sore, 
I can but weep 
Each cheerless morn. 
And love them more. 



74 MARGINS 

Sweet friends and shades 

While older one, 

The other fades ; 

His race is run 

Equal with mine. 

One shroud shall twine 

About us both, 

However loath 

Our mystic trine 

To sever so. 

Revoke the oath 

Of long ago. 

Blessed, serene, 

To Paradise 

The man shall rise, 

I might have been. 



XXXIII 

My finger 'round she ringed a violet 

Born where the Southern Cross is sparkling set; 

The blossom a sapphiric gem, 

The ring the interlaced stem. 

O dearer than the jewels of the sky, 
More sweet than any flower earth may fly, 
About thy loveliness I twine 
This verse, forever, as a sign. 



XXXIV 

I have loved, I have lived, 
I have failed, I have won, 

I have dreamed, I have waked — 

'Neath the moon and the sun 

Bury me, bury me deep. 

I have cursed, I have blessed, 
I have thought, I have done, 

I have sowed, I have reaped ; — 
' Neath the moon and the sun 
Bury me, bury me deep. , 



XXXV 
MISANTHROPY 

Desist, reviling Spirit ! thy acclaim 

Insinuates, sirenically toned, 
But thou shalt not deter me, nor shalt shame 

Me into silence : I shall live, be stoned 
Or monumented, and thy upased barbs. 

Sarcastic, shall no engine find in me 
To thrust them through the happiness that garbs 

Some sanguine hearts from torpid misery. 
Tho' by Jehovah's inquisition racked, 

Tho' His hand plunge me in a searing lye, 
Tho' on the wheel of dire misfortune gouged and 
cracked, 

Tho' my own mother scornfully may pass me by, 
I still shall love my God, my life, my kind, 
And die with courage in my look, tho' blind. 



XXXVI 

Cursed inebriate nation, 

lyO ! where she wallows in gold ; 
Drunk with the dollar's damnation, 

Withered and sottishly old. 

Crazed by the absinthe of riches, 

Bleared and bewildered she goes ; 

Shrieks, as she staggers and pitches, — 
Money will solace my woes. 



XXXVII 

STII.L 

Still midst the prose a poem we weave, 
Pallid with doubt yet dare to believe, 
Stricken with frost the garden lies sere, 
Flowers shall bloom again in a year : 
Thus to my love I come from my hate, 
Worn with the day, but strong for my fate. 

Tempests will rage the heralds of calms, 
Battle is elsewhere, peace in thy arms. 
Braving the first, but seeking the last, 
Fire is the future, ashes the past : 
lyct us not linger when we may speed, 
Stanching our wounds tho' after we bleed. 

Still with our tears a smile may we blend. 
In discord prelude in harmony end, 



8o MARGINS 

Fill with our hope sails slack with despair, 
Sailing o'er seas forbidden or rare : 
Sweetheart 'tis love with genius untold 
Touches the dross and turns it to gold. 



XXXVIII 
THUS 

Some unworn thought, 

Some unused word, 
Some tone untaught, 

Some rhyme unheard ; 
Some nobler aim. 

Some further lore, 
Shall add a name, 

A poet, more. 

FINIS. 



